Night Visiting
by Lerolain
Summary: After a long journey, Daylen Amell briefly reunites with Leliana in Val Royeaux. M!Amell/Leliana – please don't hold the absence of Alistair/Cullen against it! One-shot, complete.


Night Visiting

Summary: After a long journey, Daylen Amell briefly reunites with Leliana in Val Royeaux. M!Amell/Leliana – please don't hold the absence of Alistair/Cullen against it! One-shot, complete.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age, its characters and lore is owned by Bioware, not me. They make money from it. I don't.

XXX

The city of Val Royeaux slept under a smothering blanket of thick white fog, stained in silver by the moonlight and gold by the torches on every street corner. The streets were silent. The freezing fog muffled every noise.

Tendrils of mist swirled at his ankles like grasping hands as Daylen Amell strode down the street. He wore simple travelling garments – leather trousers, a white shirt and a dark blue woollen tailored jacket. He wasn't dressed for the cold weather, though he didn't seem bothered by the chill in the air. The other people on the streets wore long cloaks, pulled tightly about them for warmth. If they looked up and saw Daylen pass, they gave him a wide berth. His purposeful stride and the set of his shoulders said that here was a man who had no time for unnecessary delays.

Daylen paused to check his reflection in a window. His dark hair was pulled back in an untidy ponytail, which he untied and tied again, smoothing it down carefully. Deep shadows were painted under his eyes from weeks on the road to Weisshaupt with too little sleep, though there was nothing he could do about that now. Years of living indoors, sheltered from the sunlight in the confines of the Circle of Magi, had left him with pale skin. Tonight he glowed faintly, a magical aura that the darkness and the mist couldn't quite conceal.

Having never been here before, Daylen knew nothing about Val Royeaux, and in truth knew almost nothing about cities in general. His only point of reference was Denerim, which was noisier and dirtier than the Orlesian capital.

Everything about Val Royeaux was cultured. The architecture looked as though it had been designed to a strict plan, unlike Denerim where the buildings grew up beside each other organically and haphazardly, like mushrooms after rain. Here in Val Royeaux the streets were swept clean, at least in this upmarket district. The few people he saw looked more civilised than Fereldans, dressed in the latest fashionable styles and in bright confident hues.

Even to Daylen's untrained eye, Val Royeaux was a bright white canvas with artistic strokes of colour, while Denerim was a patch of muddy brown earth.

Of course, in the darkness, both cities looked much the same. Daylen reminded himself that he wasn't here to see the sights and redoubled his pace. Although he had never been here before, he somehow knew the way. He took the shortest route to his destination, using short cuts and back alleys that many of the district's residents would not have known were there.

Daylen found the inn he was looking for quickly. He debated going through the common room, but there would likely still be people around inside, and he didn't want to be seen. He could ill-afford the time for any distractions tonight.

He cut through a passage to the yard at the rear of the building. If this had been an inn in Denerim, the yard would have been a patch of churned mud with a pile of barrels, some rats and likely a homeless drunk. In Orlais, that would have been inconceivable. This yard was a garden, planted with sweet smelling herbs. The inn's empty barrels were stored out of sight in a picturesque outhouse with a slate roof, its walls painted white. A gravel path meandered from the gate to the inn's door. Flickering torches at the back door cast twin pools of light on a neatly clipped lawn, like great golden eyes watching him intently. He shuddered.

The inn was five or six storeys tall and at least four rooms wide, but Daylen knew which room was hers by the same magical instinct that had led him here. _Thi__rd floor up, one room in from the left_. He picked up a piece of white gravel from the path and aimed it carefully, using a guiding spell to make sure it hit its target. It landed square in the middle of the shutter with a smart tap.

He paced impatiently, waiting for her to respond. He tossed another piece of gravel from palm to palm, ready to try to attract her attention again.

Light flared at the edges of the shutter as the curtains were drawn back. One of the shutters opened a little way, cautiously. The embers of a dying fire lit the room.

'Who's there?' Leliana spoke in a stage whisper, only just loud enough for him to hear. Her voice was still sleepy and dazed, annoyed at having been awoken from her rest, but nonetheless caught up in the mystery of someone knocking at her window in the dead of night.

'It's Daylen.' He spoke in the same loud whisper and was rewarded by a gasp of surprise and pleasure.

'Daylen! I didn't expect you back so soon! I'll go down and open the door for you...'

'No, wait.' Daylen shut his eyes a moment, revelling in the welcome and much-missed sound of her voice. He breathed in deeply, as though he could somehow take the sound inside him and keep it close to his heart.

Her Orlesian accent had seemed so foreign, so exotic, to a young man who had only ever known the confines of the Circle. He had heard her angry and delighted, had heard her shout her battle cries at their enemies and whisper sweet words of love in his ear at night. He could listen to her tell her stories and sing her songs in her enchanting voice for ever.

He opened his eyes and returned her smile. She hung out of the window almost to her waist, a white lacy nightgown barely covering her breasts, with her short red hair tousled and wild.

His smile turned mischievous. 'I'm going to climb up to you.'

She laughed, her light girlish giggle that made his smile stretch even further. 'You'll fall! Let me go to open the door for you.'

'No, I can do this.' _With a little magic helping me along, anyway. _Ivy grew up the side of the building, and he grabbed two fistfuls of it and hauled himself up hand over hand. Where his feet couldn't find a grip against the wall he used his willpower to thicken the air beneath them. Even with this aid it wasn't a graceful process, and when he finally reached the top they were both laughing so hard he was sure that at any moment someone would open a window and shout at them to keep the noise down. Nobody did.

He fell in through the window in a shower of torn ivy leaves and landed in an undignified heap on the carpet. Leliana closed the shutters and the curtains behind him as he picked himself up and brushed the leaves from his clothes.

'Let me light some candles,' she said, but he stopped her with a hand on her waist as she moved toward the table, and pulled her back towards him.

'I can do that,' he said. Every candle in the room caught light in a shower of tiny fireballs. In his eagerness he had made some too powerful, and melted half the candle away, but Leliana didn't notice or care. She gazed enraptured at the constellation of twinkling lights, marvelling once more at the wonder of a man who could not only perform such tricks, but would do them for her entertainment the way she might sing or juggle to please a crowd.

Daylen admired the way the candlelight brought out the gold and copper of her hair and cast playfully dancing shadows on her faintly freckled white skin. He put his hands on her shoulders, his fingers tucked under the thin straps of her nightdress.

'You're back much earlier than I expected,' she said again, shaking her head, not quite able to believe that he was really standing before her.

'Oh? Does that mean you're wearing this very fetching night attire for someone else?' He teased.

'No! I just thought it would take you longer to return than this. I'm not complaining.' She lifted her mouth up to gently brush his lips. 'I'm not complaining _at all_.'

o8o

Some time later, Leliana lay with her back pressed up against Daylen's front. The mage had his arm around her waist, his hand resting lightly on her stomach. He lifted himself up off the pillow on his elbow and rested his head in his hand. He admired the curve of her shoulder, the flow of smooth snowy skin from her neck to her breast. He placed a wistful kiss on her shoulder, and sighed softly.

'What's wrong, Daylen?' She rolled over and faced him, mirroring his position by propping her head up. 'Are you feeling well?' She stroked at his cheek. 'You've lost the roses in your cheeks. And you're so cold!'

He caught at her hand and kissed her palm and her wrist. 'I'm sorry, my love.'

'Why? Daylen, what's going on?'

He paused, trying to work out the right words. 'I reached Weisshaupt, and I spoke with the Wardens there about re-establishing the Ferelden order, as I intended. I set out to come back, but half my escort wanted to remain in Weisshaupt a little longer. We'd had no trouble on the way there, so we set off back without them.

'We were in the foothills of the mountains when the bandits attacked our camp. We thought we'd hidden cleverly enough, but they must have known the terrain much better than we did. They had apostates with them. We fought them, of course, but in the end there were too many.'

Leliana's eyes had steadily been widening as he spoke. 'What are you saying?' she whispered.

Daylen looked away sadly. 'I'm saying that my body lies in the clay by the roadside where they left me to bleed my last. I had to have one more night with you, Leli, but I have to leave when the cockerel crows the morning in. And when I go, I won't be able to come back again.'

Leliana flung her arms about him, her face buried in the cool skin of his neck. Hot tears ran down his chest as she cried.

'No, it cannot be!' she whispered. 'I will go and beg the cockerel not to crow! I will give him wings of the very fairest beaten gold and a comb made of spun silver and I will....'

'Hush, my love.' Daylen stroked her hair. 'You're not in a bard's song, Leli, and even if you were, those things never work. We need to make the most of the few hours we have left, not waste them in sadness. I came back to give you hope for the future, not to break your heart.'

Leliana glared at him, wiping away her tears. '_Les hommes peuvent être si fous_,' she muttered as she pushed him back onto the pillow.

o8o

Leliana lay with her head on Daylen's chest, her ear pressed up to his cold skin. She had been listening for a heartbeat, but there was none to hear. The silence threatened to overwhelm them.

'Leli?'

'Mmm?'

'Don't mourn for me too long. I want you to remember the good times.'

She sniffed, and nodded half heartedly.

'Like the time Dog got into Alistair's tent and hid his things all though the camp.' Daylen chuckled. 'It looked like that bush had sprouted socks in the night.'

Leliana chuckled through her tears. 'Socks with a name sewn in them.'

'Ha, yes. I count myself lucky that I have memories that make saying goodbye so hard. I only wish I had plucked up the courage to tell you how I felt sooner.'

Leliana smiled as she recalled all the times Daylen had approached her in camp, began speaking to her, and then ran away tongue-tied when words failed him. 'It was endearing. You were so sweet.'

'I had so much I wanted to say, but I couldn't find the words. I always thought there would be time for that later.' He sighed. 'Hindsight is a terrible thing.'

The screech of the cock's crow froze them both, and they clutched at each other, two shipwrecked sailors clinging to driftwood and trying to stay afloat.

'Oh, stay!' begged Leliana. 'Or if you cannot, let me go with you!'

Daylen wiped away her tears, though his own were falling freely now. 'I cannot stay, and you cannot come. You still have a life ahead of you, my beautiful Leliana. You still have songs to sing and tales to tell. When you look out into the shadows of your audience, I'll be there. When they applaud you, I'll be in the echo of every cheer.'

He stood up reluctantly and picked up his clothes. He was fading around the edges, growing more insubstantial. He crossed to the window and threw open the shutters, letting in the cold air. Leliana could see through him, could see the fog forming clawed fingers, trying to pull him in.

'It's not even fully dawn yet,' she cried, sitting up on the bed. 'The sun is scarcely up. It's not fair!'

Daylen sat on the window sill and swung his legs out. He held onto the ivy, and smiled fondly back at her. His mouth moved, but only an inaudible whisper came out, as though he spoke from a great distance. He smiled reassuringly at her, nodded once and lowered himself out of sight.

Leliana stumbled out of the bed and ran to the window.

'I couldn't hear you,' she cried out. 'Tell me what you said!

Daylen was already walking across the white-rimed grass, leaving no footsteps in the grass. He gave no sign of having heard her.

As he reached the gate, he looked back up at her. He raised a hand in farewell, and then the darkness claimed him and he was gone.

Leliana collapsed sobbing back on the bed.

The last of the candles went out.

XXX

Author's Note: the 'night visiting' song is an English folk tradition, and it almost never ends well.

The French phrase in the middle means 'Men can be so crazy' (at least, I typed that into Yahoo babelfish, and that's what I got back!) Even if it's not quite right grammatically, it gets the point across, I think.

Leliana proved unromanceable in my Daylen Amell playthrough. I don't know why. I pined for her the whole time and took it as a sign that there was not going to be a happy ending for this couple even if Daylen survived the Blight.

Always happy to receive reviews. Let me know what you thought.


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